


A Coat, or Thirty Francs

by emmaliza



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Seeing Each Other Again, Angst, Gen, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:45:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix Tholomyes visits the town of Montreuil-sur-Mur on business, and chooses to buy some company for the night. It doesn't quite go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Coat, or Thirty Francs

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: "Tholomyès is in Montreuil-sur-Mer for whatever reason and buys himself some company for the night. He doesn't recognize Fantine."

It is a hopeless case he's working on; he usually wouldn't go to the effort of travel for such a thing, but he's heard interesting things about the town of Montreuil-sur-Mer and its newfound prosperity, and he finds his wanderlust sways him. It is not two far a journey; he will be back in a few days.

He sees the town, those black beads that have brought it riches. From a distance he sees the famous mayor. He considers introducing himself, but decides against it; from what he gathers the Mayor is a puritan soul, no fun to be around.

At distance from his wife, he can't help but feel he should take advantage of the situation. Gabrielle is a kind, respectable woman, but she has the sexual appetite of a fish which has long since gone to meet its maker. Really, she should be thankful for his philandering ways. He makes his way to the docks, which is apparently where one finds women of loose virtue in this town, and speaks to a gentleman who seems astonished he pays in francs rather than sous. Perhaps he offered to much. However the man offers him one of their prettiest, and leads him to a hovel hidden behind a red curtain.

Well if she is one of their prettiest, he hates to think what the others must look like. Sure perhaps she could have been pretty, once upon a time, but her head is shorn and she's missing teeth. Her body is so thin he can see her bones jutting out. He considers returning to the man and asking for another woman, but he can infer this is the best offered. He sighs. He cannot be bothered going to find anything else. Besides, the important parts of her should be in working order. He takes of his jacket and lays it upon a fisherman's hook, which seems to be making do for a coatrack and hatstand.

She seems terrified by his appearance, and he feels a slight twinge of sympathy for this creature. "Be not afraid. I don't want to hurt you," which is perhaps not a promise he won't, but oh well. "Really, my desires are quite tame. I'm certain you will have met worse men in your line of work."

"...I'm not so sure," she whispers. That makes him give a bemused smile.

"You know, I'm sure it must be bad for business to insult the customer. Unless..." He approaches her and pulls her in by the hip. "You are a woman who needs to be tamed? A woman who must be shown her role is to be on her knees, on her back, needing a cock? That's what you are, isn't it?"

She slaps him! He's stunned by this development; did he somehow mislead her pimp as to his tastes? When he looks up at her again, he finds she has tears in her eyes. "You don't even recognise me, do you?"

The question bewilders him for a moment. But suddenly he can see - that hair growing out fine and golden, fat giving her body soft curves, those missing teeth white and pearly like no other woman he's ever known. She laughs bitterly. "I suppose I can't blame you. I scarcely recognise myself some days."

She sits on the edge of the bed, and he approaches hesitantly, as if he isn't quite sure she's there. "Fantine?"

"So he recalls my name! Thank you Monsieur Tholomyès, for doing me such a tremendous honour." Mockingly she bows to him. "Most women would ask you to continue, would like to see if you could remember their family name, but I suppose that is not an option for me."

He is stunned, speechless for once in his life. "What are you doing here?"

"At this moment? Speaking with you."

"I mean, in Montreuil. I met you in Paris?"

She smiles slightly. "And clearly I did not exist before you entered my life. In fact I was born in this town, and returned here to seek work; and I found it! Honest work, in a factory run by our _beloved_ mayor." The smile falls. "But I suppose his puritan soul couldn't tolerate, well, certain things."

He is scared. He is scared and confused, and he doesn't know why. "I did nothing wrong to you," he claims. "I did not! It is not as if ever I said I would marry you; I thought we were agreed that you were my mistress as a temporary affair, for pleasure and companionship; that I would return hope and we would part on good terms, I thought you knew that!"

He wishes he could defend himself with the same calmness he uses to defend criminals in court. "Really! Well you certainly never discussed such an agreement aloud. In fact, your requests for 'pleasure and companionship' - why, they could almost be mistaken for declarations of love! I do hope you are more careful in with your words in court."

Love. Did he ever profess to love her? He can't recall. He's also not sure how she knows he is a lawyer, then he remembers he was studying law when he knew her. This conversation bothers him, and it is probably best to cut his losses and run. "Well. All things considered, I doubt you are willing to have me - again. Farewell Fantine, it was nice seeing you again."

He turns to leave and she cries out. "Wait Monsieur!"

The desperation in her voice startles him. He faces her again, and she looks down at the floor. "There is something I must tell you," she mutters.

He waits for her to continue.

"We have a child," she says, looking him in the eyes once again. "Who I am desperately trying to support. But she is sick, and I--"

"Where is this child?" he interrupts.

It takes her a moment to respond. "Um... She lives with an innkeeper man and his wife, in Montfermeil. Her name is Euphrasie."

"A child far away, who is apparently my responsibility, but I cannot ask to see. Who is sick, and hence would need an awful amount of money; more than would be required for mere upkeep." He smirks. "Really dear, I always knew you were naive, but did you really think I would fall for that? And to let yourself get greedy, why, how unlike you."

She simply stares.

"Look, Fantine. I am sorry for whatever fate has befallen you, led you to this place. But I did nothing wrong to you! It is not my responsibility. I worked hard for all my money, and will not let it be conned from me."

"Please, my Cosette needs--"

"First it was Euphrasie, then Cosette? Did you have twins? Or has the pox gotten to your brain, made it so you cannot even tell a story straight?"

That was unnecessarily cruel. He feels guilty, almost. "I'm sorry, Madame," he says, as she is undoubtedly _Madame_ now; there is nothing of youth in her. "I do wish the world had been kinder to you. I was quite fond of you, once upon a time."

Her vision falls back to the ground, and she seems to abandon this pretense of a child. "Then... at least let me do my job." She lays back on the bed, raises a hand to the button on her dress (though it is so low cut it scarcely needs it). "What did you offer my pimp, thirty francs? That is more than I would make in a week sometimes. Come on, use me." Her mouth crooks in a manner that is halfway between humour and tears. "Make me your whore."

Suddenly he is frightened again. "I don't think I would enjoy the experience, given all our history," he tells her. Her eyes wrench open, and she looks almost betrayed. "In fact, I don't think you can offer me what I am after at all."

He rushes out of there, uncertain what is agitating him so. He avoids the pimp on his way out; he did not partake of the goods, and hence shouldn't have to pay for them. Still, he supposes he should have shown her some charity, as a rich man to a poor woman and nothing more.

A rush of cold air reminds him he left his coat there. Well, she could probably sell that for a few francs.


End file.
